


kyung's room

by Anonymous



Category: Block B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7120966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>instagram love telegram</p>
            </blockquote>





	kyung's room

Jiho taps his pen against the table, one, two, three, four times. 4/4, common tempo. He taps his foot on each downbeat.

Really, he was tapping his pen there out of impatience, tapping his foot from frustration, but in true Jiho-fashion, has decided to turn it into something productive.

The clock is ticking, Kyung is not here, and fidgeting won’t change any of that. He starts up a looping track of snares on his computer, uses the sound to push out the distracting thoughts of him.

He hasn’t been in the studio in ages.

This is the only way to reach Jiho nowadays. He doesn’t step foot outside of his studio if he can help it, and although he knows Kyung feels distanced, and lonely, Jiho needs Kyung to be the one to come to him.

He shouldn’t make a home out of Kyung. Out of Kyung’s scent and his hands and his voice calling him “Ji.” Kyung is not here and Jiho can’t let himself rely on anything or anyone other than himself.

But he has a lot of bad habits already anyway. He depends on the caffeine pills, the throat drops, his phone, and his supplements to replace full meals. Kyung would be the only good thing.

There’s no sunlight anymore, through the small windows. Jiho lights up the room with bulbs, even turns on the lights by Kyung’s desk. Just in case.

He means to step back, but instead his hand ghosts along the microphone stand and the edge of the desk.

His laptop is closed, has been closed for so long.

The whole space feels like a crime scene. Here are the only traces of Kyung, dearly beloved, truly missed. Here is the museum of Kyung. His life, and his shared moments. Admission is free.

The dust lays like snow over the speakers and notebooks. Archeology of a lover.

Not that they’ve kissed very often in the studio. “When he comes back,” Jiho thinks, “I will kiss him as much as I should have. Make this place sacred.”

Maybe, Jiho thinks, I've been reading too much poetry.

Still, there was a certain tenderness to critiquing each other’s verses. Heads tilted against each other as they sat in front of a monitor, exhausted, and frustrated, but happy.

Jiho pulls back the chair, moves to sit down, but stops himself. This is his modern obsessive shrine, only to be filled when Kyung comes back. He needs him back. He needs that part of himself back. Tiny and loud, giant smiles and giant laugh. Small kisses, soft hands.

Jiho steps back, further into the shadows in the middle of the room, and slips his phone out of his jeans pocket.

He posts the photo up, captions it “When are you going to come work, Kyung?” Tags it with #work #alone #kyungsroom.

Because he is too cowardly to call him, to say he feels lonely. “When are you going to come back to me, Kyung?”

If Kyung doesn’t want to come around, then fine. Jiho thinks he needs him though, maybe, definitely. But, fine.

He unlocks the door to the studio and sits back down at his own desk. Drums with his pen and taps his feet on the downtempo.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe jiho's been listening to too much drake... marvin's room, kyung's room.
> 
> based off this instagram post, translated by bontheblock: 
> 
> https://twitter.com/bontheblock/status/671631992849436672
> 
> catch me over at ficanon on tumblr !


End file.
